


What Would You Do (To Save a Life)

by hey_its_lyn



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bart Allen Needs A Hug, Character Death, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Grief/Mourning, Gun Batman, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tim Drake, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Justice Lords Universe, Mentioned Batfamily characters, POV Alternating, Protective Damian Wayne, Suicide, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Whump, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Time Travel, Titans Tomorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_its_lyn/pseuds/hey_its_lyn
Summary: Here lies Timothy DrakeHe lived so others wouldn’t die.He died so others would live.Damian scowls at the smooth stone, at the carefully etched epitaph.He can’t help the fury building inside, rising up and clawing at his insides./\/\/\Or, the return of Tim's worst nightmare. Saving his little brother is more important than anything, including himself.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131





	What Would You Do (To Save a Life)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Suicide

The funeral isn’t what anyone expects.

The sun is high in the sky, and there is a pleasant warmth to the early summer breeze. There is a faint smell of flowers in the air, even though there are no blossoms surrounding the plain wooden coffin. Bruce said that it wasn’t traditional to have flowers at a Jewish service, so Wayne Enterprises instead donated flowers to all the local hospitals and nursing homes and kosher foods to many of the children's shelters in the city.

As people gather in front of the gravesite, a rabbi waits for them with a bundle of small, black ribbons in his hands. Once all of the guests have arrived, the rabbi moves slowly through the front row, pinning the ribbons on the lapels on the mens’ jackets and the breasts of the girls’ dresses before moving to stand behind the casket, head bowed. Soft prayers are murmured as the coffin is lowered into the ground, slowly disappearing beneath the surface of the earth. 

Bruce is the first to stand, followed by Dick and the rest of the so-called Bat Family. One by one, each of them takes a handful of soil, dropping it so that it covers the top of the coffin’s lid. Damian, as the youngest, is the last to unfurl his fist, the soil slowly sliding off of his palm and returning to the earth where it belongs.

Damian can only watch it fall, splattering across the smooth pine and hiding the last of Timothy’s final resting place. His eyes burn, and Damian barely feels Cassandra’s arm sliding around his shoulder, gently tugging him to her side. All Damian can see is the day before the last, when Timothy held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

* * *

_Tim is honestly having a good day._

_He and Tam finalized WE's yearly budget, with a healthy fund set aside for the Neon Knights, and patrol is almost over, a calm, pleasant night with little crime and a pleasant breeze. He’s set to head to San Francisco in the morning and is cleared to stay for a full week. Finals are over, so he doesn’t have to worry about classes until the start of Gotham U’s summer session in three weeks._

_It really is a good day._

_At least until the comm crackles to life in his ear, Red Hood’s harsh breathing echoing in his ears._

“I got a situation over here,” _Hood hisses._

_Tim nearly groans. He was this close to being home-free for a full week. This close._

“Red here,” _he says._ “What’s your location?”

“I’m just outside your goddamn Nest, Replacement,” _Hood snarls. A loud bang sounds through the comm, and Hood swears colorfully in three different languages._ “All I wanted was some of that good tiger balm I know you have hiding in your mini cave, and what do I get?” _A rapid succession of gunshots, coming from Hood himself, if Tim is guessing the noise level correctly._ “A goddamn gun-toting, wannabe Batman!”

_Tim’s blood runs cold in his veins._ “What did you say?”

_Hood swears again._ “You heard me! Wanna tell me why there’s a crazy fuckin’ cosplayer trying to break into your lair?”

_Tim swallows thickly, a loud buzzing rising in his ears, drowning out the rest of the buzz of the city around him._ “ETA four minutes,” _he says._ “Hold on until I get there. And Hood--” _Jason grunts as he fires another shot--_ “don’t do anything stupid.”

“Aw,” _Hood teases, gritting his teeth,_ “and to think my favorite little replacement is worried about me.”

_Tim doesn’t respond, too busy firing his grapple and moving towards his theater apartment as quickly as his line will carry him. There’s a heavy pit forming in his stomach, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do about it._

* * *

After the service ends, the gathered heroes, dressed in black with solemn expressions, watch as Bruce makes his rounds, seeing each person once before retreating to Wayne Manor.

Thomas and Gordon stay behind to run interference. Todd is already gone, Cassandra has disappeared to join Bruce, and Brown and Richard are too choked up to be able to speak to anyone. Damian remains on the outskirts of the Wayne Family plot, watching as the heroes talk quietly amongst each other.

Damian knew that Timothy was a popular resource among the caped community. He was a reliable source of intelligence, an impeccable strategist, an able leader, and a competent fighter. Damian knows that Timothy is nearly unbeatable with a bo staff, trained by Lady Shiva herself, and arguably the best staff user in the world.

It shouldn’t surprise him that so many members of the League came to the service, but it does. It did not take long for Timothy to recover his reputation after he proved that Damian’s father was, in fact, alive, lost in the time stream, and not murdered by Darkseid like they had all believed. During those nine months Timothy was gone, nearly the entire community had written off his self-imposed mission as a representation of his grief, a quest for the impossible. Damian still doesn’t know how he managed to blow up so many of his grandfather’s assets and live to tell the tale, no matter how poor of a condition he was in once he returned.

He doesn’t recognize the three young women standing alongside Timothy’s team. The clone, Jon’s elder ‘brother’, the second Kid Flash and Wonder Girl, all stand away from the rest of the attendees, and Damian narrows his eyes as he watches them murmur amongst each other.

One of the three women, with short blonde hair curling around her shoulders, looks back at him, and Damian freezes as she meets his eyes. Her stare is a piercing blue that manages to look right through him. Damian can only watch as she leans to the side to say something to the second Wonder Girl.

Cassandra Sandsmark’s head snaps towards him, her eyes narrowing in his direction. Damian’s shoulders hunch despite himself, and he quickly forces himself to relax. Sandsmark glares at him for a moment before turning back to her team. She must say something, as they all glance at him before nodding.

Sandsmark slips her arm through the clone’s, and the others pair off together until they’re all touching in some way or another. Without another look, they disappear through the cemetery's wrought-iron gates. Damian feels something terrible burn in the pit of his belly.

How dare they just leave like that?

He turns to face Timothy’s headstone, his hands clenching into fists.

_Here lies Timothy Drake_

_He lived so others wouldn’t die._

_He died so others would live._

Damian scowls at the smooth stone, at the carefully etched epitaph.

He can’t help the fury building inside, rising up and clawing at his insides. How could Timothy’s so-called best friends just turn and walk away when they could have saved him if they had only been honest with the Justice League?

* * *

_Tim drops onto the roof of the theater, quickly dropping and rolling to the side to avoid a string of gunshots that whiz above his head. He grinds his teeth, coming out of the roll and landing in a careful crouch._

_“Hood, status!”_

_“He’s a real fucking bastard!” Hood shouts. “I swear this fucker fights just like your slippery ass!”_

_Tim’s eyes are glued to the looming figure standing across the rooftop, pistol held tightly in his grasp. Hood is heaving, holding onto his side, and Tim can see the blood staining his gloves and his signature leather jacket. The gun-wielding Batman just laughs._

_“I was wondering when you’d arrive,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “I was hoping we could talk alone, Red. I didn’t know you and Hood managed to get along quite yet.”_

_Hood tenses, muscles coiling, and he hisses as it pulls on the bleeding gunshot wound in his side. Tim just bares his teeth in a snarl. He moves to press his distress beacon, but he’s forced to dive to the side to avoid a bullet to his hand._

_Gun Batman tuts at him like he’s a misbehaving child. Tim can’t help but shiver; it’s the exact way Janet expressed her near-constant disappointment. Tim works hard to keep himself from falling into the habit. Like so many other things, he’s reminded that this Gun Batman is not him. Will never be him. He won’t let it happen._

_“I said,” Gun Batman says flatly, “that I wanted to talk to you alone.”_

_“I’d really rather not,” Tim tells him, reaching for his staff instead._

_Tim can feel Hood’s eyes on him from behind the helmet. He pointedly doesn’t meet his brother’s eyes through the white-out lenses, instead keeping his gaze firmly planted on Gun Batman. He knows what happens when he doesn’t take him seriously._

_His staff extends with a sharp snap._

* * *

Damian allows Richard to hold him as they make their way back to Wayne Manor. His grip is tight around Damian’s shoulders, his knuckles turning white as his fingertips dig into Damian’s skin. Babara sits on Damian’s other side, her arm tossed across his other shoulder, her fingers resting on the back of Richard’s neck, rubbing soothing circles on his skin.

The amount of contact makes him twitchy, but Damian holds still, despite the pain still radiating from his ribs. He made a mistake in not welcoming Timothy’s attempts of reaching out, he realizes that now. Timothy had tried time and time again to befriend him, and Damian ignored him every time, spurning his outstretched hand and spitting on his name with a vitriol that disgusts him now.

He is determined not to make the same mistake again.

* * *

_Tim doesn’t hear Nightwing land on the rooftop behind him, falling to his knees next to Hood, pressing his hands against the gushing wound in Hood’s side, ignoring his brother’s pained hiss and he tries to staunch the bleeding._

_Tim is focused on his alternate self, dodging bullets and batarangs in tandem, lashing out with his staff, only for Gun Batman to jump out of the way each time. It’s harder, fighting him now than it was before. Tim may be stronger now, but it doesn’t seem like Gun Batman is hesitating like he did in their last encounter. He’s hitting harder, taking more dangerous shots. He’s not holding back, and Tim struggles to keep up._

_A bullet grazes his thigh, and it takes a lot of effort to keep his knee from collapsing beneath him. He uses his staff to keep himself upright but is startled by the flash of yellow he sees out of the corner of his eye._

_Robin drops down next to Tim, katana drawn. Tim ignores the burning pain in his leg and steps in front of Robin, pushing the younger boy behind him._

_“Red Robin,” he hisses, and Tim recognizes the annoyance in his tone._

_“Don’t,” Tim snaps. “Listen to me, Robin, this is not an opponent you can throw yourself at.”_

_“And why not?”_

_Tim growls, snapping his staff out to the side, blocking Robin from advancing any further. His injured leg shakes beneath him. Tim glances behind him, relief rushing through him when he realizes that Nightwing has removed Hood from the roof, likely evacing him back to the Cave so Agent A can clean up the bullet wound in his side._

_He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his tongue when Robin tackles him, knee digging into the graze as gunshots fly around them. Robin swears in Arabic as his sword clatters to the side, and Tim clenches his jaw and tries to control his rapid breathing._

_Gun Batman bares his teeth in a smile. “Because I know your every move,” he says._

_Robin’s eyes narrow behind his domino. “How?” he demands. “Who is providing your information? I will gut them like the traitor they are.”_

_“Oh baby bat,” Gun Batman laughed, and Damian went still, “did big brother never tell you about his trip to the future?”_

* * *

Damian’s father is down in the Batcave by the time they arrive back at the manor. Brown and Thomas are following in another car, only a few minutes behind Damian and the others.

He finds Cassandra curled up in the library, fingers running over the glossy pages of one of the family’s many photo albums. Gordon presses a kiss to Richard’s cheek before wheeling in to sit with her. Richard watches her go, and Damian can see the sad shine in his eyes. 

“Richard?”

Damian hesitates before taking Richard’s hand in his own. Richard startles, looking down at their joint hands, eyes widening before filling with tears. He blinks them away quickly, sniffing in what Damian assumes is an attempt to hide the sudden surge of emotion.

“Yeah, Dami?” he asks.

Damian bites the inside of his cheek. “What…” He trails off, taking a deep breath and trying again. “What do we do now?”

Richard squeezes his hand. “We move on, Damian. And we do what we can to learn from our mistakes and keep them from happening again.”

“And what of Timothy?”

Richard closes his eyes, taking a moment to calm himself before answering. “We remember him, and we do our best to honor his memory.”

“Timothy would laugh at you if he heard you say that.”

“Yeah,” Richard says with a huff, a minuscule upturn appearing at the very corners of his lips. “Yeah, he would.”

Richard pulls Damian to his side, and his ribs scream in protest.

“Did you ever see Tim’s photo albums?”

Damian shakes his head. Richard offers him a small, sad smile.

“Well, we have to fix that, don’t we? C’mon, let’s go see Cass and Babs, and I can show you how crazy Tim was as a kid.”

* * *

_“The future?” Robin scoffs. “What do you take me for? A fool?” He reaches for his sword before making his way to his feet, standing in front of Tim, who is still sprawled across the ground, trying to control his erratic breathing. “Even the pretender is not stupid enough to fiddle with time.”_

_Gun Batman’s grin is cold, sharp. “Is that so?”_

* * *

Later that night, after his father and Thomas have left for patrol, Damian slides out from underneath a slumbering Richard, quickly stuffing a pillow under Richard’s arms, where he had held Damian tight to his chest. He watches Richard sleep for a moment, tracking the even rise and fall of his chest. For the first time in the past two days, Richard’s face is relaxed, the furrow between his brow smoothed in sleep. His fingers have curled into the pillow, much like they had previously held onto Damian’s shirt.

He slinks out of the library and up the stairs. Damian’s steps are silent as he makes his way to the family wing, and he slides two throwing knives into his palm as he stands in front of Timothy’s door.

No one has been in his room since the night he died. No one wants to disturb what Timothy left behind.

Which is why Damian kicks open the door and throws the knives, one after the other, at the intruders. He snarls, wishing he thought to detour to the Cave to grab more tools. His katana would be a welcome companion for this encounter.

Teeth bared, Damian steps into the room, two more knives sliding neatly into his palms to replace the two he already threw.

“What are you doing here?”

The clone glares at him, eyes flashing read in the moonlight that streams in through the open window, illuminating the room in a faint, pale glow.

“What’s it to you?” he asks.

Damian growls. “This is my home, and you are trespassing where you do not belong.” He glares fiercely. “You are not welcome here.”

Sandsmark steps in front of her imbecile of a partner, hands held up in the universal signal of peace.

“We just wanted to say our goodbyes,” she says.

“You had your chance,” Damian hisses, “and you walked away. I saw you leave the service.”

Sandsmark narrows her eyes. “Tim would have hated that service. He didn’t even practice Judaism.”

Damian’s fingers curl around the handles of his blades. “He has said before that he wished to be buried in an Orthodox ceremony. We consulted the rabbi to decide on the prayers to use, and we limited the number he said.”

“You didn’t even let him have the name Wayne,” the clone snaps.

Damian stalks forward, glaring at the clone from where he cowers behind his woman. “Do not speak of things you do not understand, clone!”

“I know perfectly well what you think of Tim!” the clone shouts. “You hate him! You’ve tried to kill him! Multiple times!

“I said--”

“I don’t care what you said,” he spits. “You didn’t even have the decency to let Tim have his own name!”

Damian’s eyes are burning, and his chest aches. He can’t feel his fingers from how tightly he is holding onto his knives. His breaths are hitching as he struggles to breathe, scrambling for words.

“Don’t pretend that you ever cared about him just because he died,” the clone sneers.

Damian feels like he’s been punched in the chest, and all of the air goes whooshing out of his lungs. His vision blurs, his ears ring, his sides ache, and Damian feels like he’s drowning. He can’t tell what way is up or down, left or right, and all he knows is that the clone is _right_ , and he was so, so terrible to Timothy, so how can he act like he has any right to defend him? Damian can’t… he can’t…

Fingers are wrapping around his bicep, tugging him back into a warm chest. There are voices, but Damian can’t quite make out what they’re saying. The voices get louder and louder until suddenly there’s someone kneeling down in front of him, hands on his shoulders, deep blue eyes frantically flickering back and forth, and Damian realizes that it’s Richard in front of him, one hand cupping his face, the other settled on his shoulder as he says his name, over and over again.

“There you are,” Richard says gently, thumbs swiping gently over his cheekbones.

Damian only realizes that he’s crying when Richard’s hands smear the tears across his cheeks. Richard smiles kindly, but his eyes are worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The tears come back with a vengeance, and before he knows it, Damian is sobbing into Richard’s shoulder.

“They knew!” he wails, words muffled by the fabric of Richard’s sweatshirt. “They knew, and they didn’t warn us!”

Richards shushes him. “Damian, Dami, it’s okay,” he soothes. “What did they know?”

Damian can see the figures of Timothy’s team--of his best friends--behind him, faces blurred by the stinging tears. His fingers curl into Richard’s warmth, and his breath hitches as he tries to slow the tears. Nothing happens, and he just barely manages to cry out,

“They knew about Tim’s alternate, and they never said a word!”

Richard goes still beneath him, and Damian only cries harder.

* * *

_“You see,” Gun Batman says gently, like he’s telling a small child a story to help put them to sleep, “when Tim and his team were still flying all on their lonesome, they somehow managed to stumble into the future.”_

_Robin’s stance shifts and Gun Batman grins. Tim’s heart is beating wildly in his chest, but his throat feels tight, and he finds himself unable to speak. He tries to get to his feet, but white, hot pain races through his leg, and he falls back down. Tim’s panicking because he knows Robin’s tells, which means that his alternate self knows them too. And Robin is hooked._

_“And that, baby bat, is where he met me.” His grin is nearly maniacal._

_Robin’s eyes narrow. “Who are you?”_

_“Why, don’t you see, baby bat?” He points a mocking finger at Tim and smiles cruelly. “I’m him.”_

* * *

“Dami,” Richard says tersely, “what are you talking about?”

Damian sniffles pitifully, anger and shame rushing through him like a tidal wave. “They… they knew,” he repeats, “about Timothy’s alternate. The gun-wielding Batman.”

Richard stiffens beside him. “How?” he asks softly, pulling Damian to him and stroking a hand through his hair. Damian buries his face further into Richard’s shoulder, arms wrapping around him and holding tight.

“They were there,” he whispers into Richard’s neck. “In the future, when Timothy fought his alternate self. They were there. They knew about the timeline.”

Richard continues to run his fingers through Damian’s thick hair, slowly working out the knots as he rubs his nails gently against Damian’s scalp. He holds him close as he turns to look at Timothy’s friends.

“Is that true?”

Sandsmark and the clone have gone pale. Bart Allen makes himself known for the first time, rubbing an arm across his eyes to mop up the tears of his own. His voice is shaky, his long hair snarled and tangled even more than Damian’s own.

“Gun Batman wasn’t the only evil alternate version of us,” he says hoarsely. Richard says nothing, and Damian assumes that his gaze is sharp and expectant, as Allen keeps talking without being asked. “Our entire team was trapped in the future, where the Titans had taken over the entire western United States. Our future selves were…” He swallows thickly. “They were evil. They thought that murdering all criminals was the only way to protect others, so they took control as violent dictators. Tim took the mantle of Batman after… after everyone else died. He was our leader.

“He… He managed to grab Tim, our Tim, while we were trapped there. He held him captive, but we managed to rescue him with the help of Titans East, who were the only remaining resistance. We found the cosmic treadmill, which allowed us to travel back home. We… we thought that we managed to erase that timeline, but--” his voice cracks-- “we were wrong.”

* * *

_“No,” Robin snaps. “That is impossible. Red Robin would never fall to such lows.”_

_“Oh really? Do tell me, baby bat--”_

_“No,” Robin interrupts. “Red Robin would never.”_

_“And how do you know that?”_

_“Because I know him.”_

_“Do you?”_

_Gun Batman lunges, and Tim is too slow to keep him from tackling Robin. He forces himself to his feet, ignoring the pain and holding his bo staff in front of him. Robin is doing a good job of keeping Gun Batman off of him, but Gun Batman has years of experience on Robin, and he doesn’t care about hurting him more than he can recover from. He’s not afraid to kill him._

_Tim’s mind is racing, his heart beating loud enough that he can hear it echo in his ears, drowning out the sound of the fight. He can’t help but wonder where Nightwing is. Batman? Black Bat? Spoiler? Signal? Hood is injured, and Nightwing got him out, but he should have come back._

_Logically, Tim knows that Nightwing hasn’t been gone long enough to get Hood to the Cave, let alone make his way all the way back across the city._

_Logic does nothing in the face of fear._

* * *

“What happened?”

Richard’s voice is calm but as cold as ice. Damian wraps his fingers tighter into his sweatshirt and holds on for dear life.

* * *

_Robin’s sword clatters out of his hands, dropping onto the rooftop with a resounding clang. He throws himself at Tim’s alternate with his fists. Gun Batman gets in a hit to Robin’s ribs, but Robin strikes out, hitting his wrist, and the pistol goes clattering to the ground. Gun Batman snarls and hauls Robin up by his hood._

_Tim doesn’t think. He lunges._

* * *

“Bart, what happened.”

“We escaped.” Allen’s brown eyes shine with the tears that are dripping down his cheeks. “Tim took care of it. He always does. It was supposed to be enough, I swear. We didn’t know. We would have told someone if we knew it wasn’t over.”

Damian clings to Richard, whose fingers tighten around his waist, making Damian gasp as sparks of pain flare across his ribs. Richard loosens his hold but doesn’t let go.

* * *

_Tim grabs the pistol off the rooftop, hands wrapping around the grip of the gun with a sickening familiarity._

_“Put him down.”_

_Gun Batman looks at him and laughs. “Or what?”_

_Robin struggles, punching and kicking, hits going wide, hissing through the air rather than making contact with his target._

_“We’ve been through this already,” Tim says. “You know I’d do it. Put him down. Now.”_

* * *

“Bart, how did Tim take care of it?”

* * *

_“You wouldn’t.”_

_Tim glares. “I would. You know I would.” He bares his teeth in a parody of a smile. “You’re me, after all.”_

* * *

“He threatened suicide,” Bart whispers, voice breaking.

* * *

_The press of the muzzle is a cold weight against his head._

* * *

“He held the gun to his head and said he’d shoot unless they let us go.”

* * *

_Distantly, he can hear Robin screaming. He’s saying no, over and over and over again, but Tim doesn’t look at him. Instead, he meets his alternate’s eye and snarls._

_“There’s no future with you in it if I end this now.”_

* * *

“I don’t think they really thought he’d do it, but we… we were so scared, and Tim wasn’t backing down, and I…”

Allen breaks down, and Damian lifts his head from Richard’s shoulder. He sees Allen crying into the clone’s chest, trapped in a hug, while Sandsmark wraps her arms around the two of them, her face turned into the clone’s neck, her hand buried in Allen’s hair.

Richard’s crying.

Damian’s still crying.

They’re all crying.

* * *

_“You wouldn’t,” Gun Batman snarls._

_Tim raises his chin. “Put him down. Now.”_

_“No.”_

* * *

Damian wishes he would have known. Wishes that he was better--a better fighter, a better Robin. Wishes that he wouldn’t have gotten caught, that then he could have stopped it all from happening.

He wishes he would have given Timothy the chance to be his big brother.

* * *

_Tim presses the gun against his head and pulls the trigger._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, posted at one in the morning, after being written in two sittings (only separated by family dinner) and given two read-throughs. I'll come back and actually edit it at some point. Maybe. I cried while I finished writing this because there was a sad movie on in the background and I'm sleep deprived.
> 
> At this point, I have a crap ton of projects planned. Some will end up 50k+, others only a couple thousand words, some a series of interconnected one-shots. Now it's just deciding which ones to focus on and forcing myself to sit down and write.
> 
> If anyone is interested in hearing about my ramblings and ideas, hit me up. I have a [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hey-its-lyn) that I'm rarely on but will check if I see anything.
> 
> If not, have a fantastic day and stay safe y'all.
> 
> (Also, if anyone has any suggestions for better summaries.... help.)


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